


What Derek Loves Best

by umbralillium



Series: Tumblr Fic [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 11:11:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umbralillium/pseuds/umbralillium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Derek loves best about Saturday mornings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Derek Loves Best

Derek loves Saturday mornings. They’re usually quiet, as long as Stiles hasn’t been fighting insomnia or pulling an all-nighter to do research for whatever is invading their territory, this time. He loves waking slowly to the warm morning light spilling through the curtains, a single lance falling across the bed from the gap in the middle and warming Derek’s toes. He loves pulling in a long, slow breath, soaking in their combined scents mingled with the lingering smell detergent and softener. He loves nuzzling in closer to Stiles’s neck where his scent has grown stronger during the night.

“You’re doing your ‘I love Saturdays’ internal monologue, aren’t you?” Stiles mutters sleepily, nudging back against Derek.

“No,” Derek answers, lapping at the traces of sweat that have gathered on Stiles’s skin during the night.

“Right,” Stiles replies skeptically as he rolls over onto his back.

“Hi,” Derek murmurs before nuzzling against Stiles’s shoulder, up his neck, across his jaw to his mouth.

“Hi,” Stiles mumbles around Derek’s tongue.

Derek can’t resist smiling against Stiles’s mouth.

Another part of Saturday mornings Derek loves is the long, slow, lazy sex. Neither of them have the brain power in the mornings for penetration, but they’re more than happy with a little frottage, occasionally a slow blow job; something easy to start the weekend off right.

“Monologuing,” Stiles moans against Derek’s shoulder.

Derek laughs softly but doesn’t deny it again. It’s not like Stiles doesn’t feel the same way about Saturdays.

Saturday morning showers are always shared, even if Stiles has been up all night. As much as they both love shower sex, though, Saturday showers are reserved for washing each other, trading soft kisses, sometimes a handjob, if one or both of them are up to it. But usually, just kisses.

Derek knows Stiles is laughing at him. It’s not like Derek can help it. He _really_ loves Saturday mornings. This particular Saturday is a kisses-only shower and they’re drying off and getting dressed, Stiles in boxers and one of Derek’s t-shirts, Derek in just a pair of track pants, within twenty minutes. “Eggs?” Derek asks as they make their way downstairs to the kitchen.

Stiles hums an affirmative and makes a beeline for the coffee pot. Derek chuckles and grabs the eggs and butter from the fridge. By the time the skillet is on the stove, butter bubbling away, Stiles has two mugs of coffee made up, four slices of toast in the toaster, and nudges into Derek’s space just as he’s cracking the first egg into the pan. He pauses long enough to take his mug and steal a kiss. “Thanks,” he murmurs around the edge of the mug.

A nuzzle to his shoulder is his only answer and he smiles into his coffee. Stiles slings his free arm around Derek’s waist and watches as Derek adds five more eggs to the pan and scrambles them before they cook too much. Only once the spatula is on the spoon rest does Stiles nudge in for a kiss. Derek hums contently, hand perching on Stiles’s ass and giving it a soft squeeze. This is what he loves best about Saturday mornings: the soft, free, sleepy affection.

It’s easy to lose himself in Stiles, tasting the coffee on his tongue, his stubble catching on Derek’s stubble, his soft sighs and moans filling the kitchen, his sleep warm scent filling Derek’s nose, his soft skin under Derek’s fingertips.

Stiles starts to pull away and Derek can’t help the soft noise of denial that escapes, despite Stiles’s laugh. “Eggs are burning,” Stiles says.

Derek curses and flips the burner off with the hand not full of prime Stiles ass, glaring at the brown mass in the pan.

Stiles huffs a soft laugh against Derek’s neck. “I don’t know why you bother making breakfast on Saturdays,” he observes. “You always burn it.”

Derek growls and nips at Stiles’s shoulder. “You burn it, too.”

“Excuse me?” Stiles says skeptically, leaning back to meet Derek’s gaze. “ _I_ never burn breakfast.”

“What about the waffles last week?” Derek asks, smirking.

“I…” Stiles huffs and rolls his eyes. “You distracted me.”

Derek raises an eyebrow and slides his hand down so he has a double handful of Stiles’s ass. “So what would you call what you were doing five minutes ago?”

Instead of answering, Stiles darts in for a kiss and Derek huffs a laugh. Derek shifts his grip a little lower and Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s neck in preparation, familiar with where Derek is going to do next. Derek grins and lifts, groaning softly when Stiles wraps his legs around Derek’s waist, bringing their cocks into closer alignment.

“Gonna fuck me on the table?” Stiles gasps against Derek’s mouth.

“Maybe,” Derek replies. “Or maybe I’ll fuck you against the sliding glass doors.”

Stiles moans. “We don’t have a back fence. Anyone walking through the woods—“

“I know,” Derek interrupts, grinning.

“Kinky bastard,” Stiles groans, head tilting back.

Derek takes the opportunity and latches onto Stiles’s neck as he turns around and walks towards the glass doors. “You like it,” he says in between bites.

“No one likes it when you’re smug,” Stiles mutters, gasping at the cool press of glass against his back.

“Your point?” Derek asks as he grinds his hips.

“Hate you,” Stiles gasps out even as he works his hips as well.

“No, you don’t,” Derek rebuts, scrubbing his stubble over the mark he’d left on Stiles’s neck.

“Pretty sure I do,” Stiles whines, burying his hands in Derek’s hair and pulling.

“Keep telling youself that,” Derek groans, letting Stiles tilt his head back so Stiles can start his own mark on Derek’s neck.

“Maybe I will.” Stiles bites Derek’s neck hard, nearly breaking the skin and Derek growls, hips working against Stiles’s even harder and faster. “Fuck,” Stiles moans.

“Yeah,” Derek moans back, moving one hand up the leg of Stiles’s boxers to press against his perineum.

“Fucker!” Stiles yells as he comes.

Derek groans a laugh, following Stiles over the edge.

Stiles lowers his feet to the floor, but doesn’t move, otherwise, clinging to Derek while they catch their breath. “Not my turn to do laundry,” he observes after a long moment, laughing when Derek pinches his ass.

“It was my turn to do breakfast, so it’s your turn to do laundry,” Derek answers.

“But you burned breakfast,” Stiles points out.

“So did you last week and I still did the laundry.”

Stiles grumbles and rolls his eyes. “Still have to change so these can go in the laundry,” Stiles says, tugging damp fabric away from where it’s clinging to his cock.

Derek licks his lips, hungry for the taste of Stiles’s come. Stiles starts backing up as Derek stalks forward. His foot catches on the first step of the stairs just as Derek pounces, bearing him down onto the carpet.

“Fuck,” Stiles mutters, head thudding back against the stairs. “You’re giving me a massage after this, asshole. My back is going to be a mess.”

Derek just hums and pins Stiles’s hips down as he sucks at the damp patch on Stiles’s boxers.

“Shiiit,” Stiles moans. “Up. Upstairs, wanna, _god_ , taste you, too.”

Derek slings Stiles over his shoulder and heads up the stairs, trying really hard to ignore Stiles’s hands on his ass and his breath on Derek’s back.

“Y’know, sometimes I think I should hate when you do this,” Stiles observes as Derek nudges their bedroom door open with his foot. “But this view is _fantastic_.”

Derek laughs and tosses Stiles onto the bed. Even as he bounces on the mattress, Stiles crooks a finger at Derek. “Lose the pants,” he instructs, stripping his own clothes off. Derek skims his pants off and prowls onto the bed and over Stiles’s supine body. Staring into Stiles’s amber eyes, he lowers his hips and rubs his cock against Stiles’s cock, smearing their come even more. “God, you kinky fucker,” Stiles moans, delighted.

Derek chuckles and shifts around so his cock is over Stiles’s mouth. He drops to his elbows and buries his nose in the damp skin of Stiles’s crotch, more than likely getting come in his stubble. He shrugs mentally. Stiles will probably lick it off later. After he laughs at him.

Maybe that’s what Derek loves best about Saturdays, he considers hazily as Stiles’s mouth gets to work. All the easy laughter, whether they’re in bed, in the shower, or in the kitchen. Or maybe that’s what’s best about them.

End

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post](http://umbralillium.tumblr.com/post/56542711244/dylanobriened-no-but-seriously-i-just-want) on Tumblr.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr! [Come find me!](http://umbralillium.tumblr.com)


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